Red Sand Sunrise

by Fiona McArthur

  Sylvia lifted her chin and Callie saw again the strength in her mother that had drawn her father back to them. Tough, resilient, uncomplaining about the things she couldn’t change, born to survive floods and droughts and extreme heartbreak, she epitomised the outback pioneer soul. Her whole world was providing a warm and welcoming home for her family and friends, and she’d always found joy and fulfilment in that simple goal.

  Callie had never been so proud of her – or, now that she really took in the gauntness of her mother’s frame, so terrified of losing her. Callie crossed the room and hugged the one small solid rock in her world, felt the bones beneath her fingers, then put Sylvia at arm’s length so she could examine her more clearly.

  ‘So, apart from the last week, how have you been, Mum?’

  Sylvia shrugged. ‘The truth is, a little more tired than usual.’

  Callie studied the lined face in front of her. ‘You still look beautiful.’ Her mother’s dark eyes were a little red underneath, but then so were Callie’s, from crying and trying not to cry. ‘I’m worried about you.’

  Sylvia smiled. ‘Of course you are.’ She looked away and half turned her shoulder. ‘But there’s nothing you can do.’

  Callie’s heart plummeted. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Sylvia straightened and turned back to look into her daughter’s eyes. ‘Are you sure you want to talk about this now?’

  Did she? ‘I love you more than anyone else in the world.’ And wasn’t that true. ‘If you can talk about it now, then yes – please, tell me.’

  A weary lift of thin shoulders and then, ‘Dr Graves says I have stage-four breast cancer. Obviously an aggressive one. I don’t want an operation. Or chemotherapy.’

  Callie felt the floor tilt, and she put out her hand to steady herself on the edge of the big kitchen table, a table that had seen so many changes and joys and heartbreaks – and which now bore witness to this bombshell. It had been leaned on, slapped, laughed around, and cried on. It held in its wooden boards the history of her family.

  Her fingers dug into the scrubbed wood. Stage four? She moistened her lips and straightened. How could she not have known this?

  ‘Did Dad know?’

  ‘No. It would have killed him.’

  Her mother’s lip trembled at her poor attempt at humour, and Callie moved to enfold her again.

  ‘Oh, Mum. Terrible joke.’

  ‘I know.’ Sylvia stepped back and with determination poured Callie a cup of tea. ‘But he’d been talking about a manager for the pub, so I guess he could see I wasn’t well. It was your dad who said I had to go to the doctor.’

  It all began to make more sense. ‘So that’s why Kelvin could come at such short notice to work at the bar after Dad . . .’ Died.

  Sylvia nodded. ‘I’ve offered him the lease until we sort it out but he can’t sign it yet. And there’s something else we need to sort out. Apparently there’s a hitch with the will. Mr Stiles is away for a week, and I said I’d wait for him rather than talk to someone else about it.’

  ‘The will is nothing. Everything is yours.’ Callie took the cup and cradled her mother’s hand. ‘How long have you known you were sick?’

  ‘A fortnight. Since the doctor’s last visit. I have to see him tomorrow.’ She brushed the tears away from her face. ‘It’s easier with your dad gone. I’m content to follow, but I hate to think of leaving you. Especially now.’

  ‘Then don’t.’

  But they both knew that it was too late for anything but an empty promise. And a few fiercely treasured months to come.

  ‘Dr Graves suggested we treat the pain with radiation as it comes. He said I could fly to Brisbane for a quick day or two and then come home, but unless it gets too bad, I’m happy to just soak in the sun.’ She patted Callie’s hand. ‘Especially now you’re here. It’s not like I don’t know a doctor.’

  ‘I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.’ It seemed big, bad, horrible things did indeed come in threes.

  As if she’d read her mind, her mother patted her arm. ‘So where is Kurt?’

  There was no easy way to say it. ‘He’s run off with a girl from the coffee shop and they’re having a baby.’

  Sylvia blinked, but that was all the surprise she showed. She shook her head and patted her daughter’s arm. ‘I always did hate coffee,’ she said dryly. ‘I don’t think he’s been kind to you for a long time, has he, Callie?’

  Callie reached in for another hug, pressing her cheek into her mother’s and feeling the warm softness of her skin against her own. Callie wanted to tighten her grip. Hold her so she couldn’t go.

  Bugger Kurt. This was what mattered.

  Stage-four breast cancer. The poorest prognosis. She dealt with this at least a couple of times a year in her practice, but that didn’t make it any easier. Maybe it was a whole lot harder because she knew the way it would go. Her brain screamed for treatment; what if a new drug was found? Radical surgery? But moving Mum to a centre where she knew no one just wasn’t going to happen. And in her heart she knew it was too late. Stage four. Palliative. Make her comfortable. Create memories that would make them both smile. Treasure every second because there wouldn’t be that many left. Indeed she would. Her throat stung. She would be here and be thankful for it.

  ‘Okay. We’ll do it your way.’ She kissed the top of her mother’s head. ‘And savour every moment.’

  Sylvia shook her head. ‘You can’t stay. What about your practice?’

  ‘Kurt wanted to live in Sydney. I didn’t.’ It was easy when you knew what was really important. Shame she hadn’t grasped the concept earlier. ‘I want to live here. With you.’

  ‘Sell your surgery, you mean? What about a job?’

  ‘Blanche McKay might have one for me.’

  They both sat down with their tea and, except for the painful emptiness of the chair at the head of the table, it was like old times.

  Callie squeezed her mother’s hand. ‘I have enough money for a long time even if I don’t work. So don’t rush away.’

  FIVE

  As she’d been instructed to the night before, Eve walked across to the house for breakfast.

  She was surprised that the dew was heavy on the packed ground beneath her shoes and the morning was so chilly. She glanced up and smiled at the vast pale-blue sky with its promise of heat to come.

  Pink and white cockatoos dotted a spotted gum tree like Christmas decorations, and two dogs headed importantly down the red-stained gravel that ran alongside the road and into the distance.

  When Callie opened the door she looked crushed, almost hunted. Eve frowned and opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but Callie shook her head.

  Later, then. And then she smelled it. The unmistakable aroma of bacon and eggs pulled her in and her mouth watered so badly it almost made her slur her ‘Good morning’ to Sylvia as she was waved towards the table. She couldn’t help glancing back at Callie but her sister was looking at Sylvia.

  Callie put a large plate in front of her, and Eve did a double take at the size of the meal. Luckily she was one of those people who burned off fat just by talking.

  Callie must have seen her eyes widen. ‘I know. It’s a lot. But I made too much. Guess I have to get used to Dad not being here.’

  Eve’s heart squeezed for her. It had taken Eve six months before she stopped tearing up whenever she spoke about her mother after she’d died, and she had no doubt that Callie would have been closer to her dad than Eve had been to her mum. She really needed to drop the guilt she felt about that.

  ‘Don’t apologise. Breakfast is my favourite meal of the day. And bacon and eggs is my fave breakfast.’

  ‘Tea or coffee?’

  There was a huge teapot in the middle of the table. A white ceramic spout poked out from under the funny knitted tea-cosy, as if the pot had on a snuggly dressing gown. Eve had never seen one in real life before. No sign of coffee.

  She grinned. ‘Tea in the mornings, thank you.
I can help myself.’

  ‘How did you sleep?’ Sylvia passed the milk.

  ‘Like a top, thanks. It’s so quiet.’

  ‘Except for the cockatoos?’

  ‘Even with the cockatoos.’

  Callie sat down at the table and opened her mouth and closed it a couple of times before she blurted out, ‘Can I ask you something? Don’t feel pressured, but if you could just think about it . . .’

  ‘Sure.’ Eve glanced at Sylvia for a clue but there was nothing she could draw on so she sipped her tea and waited.

  Callie spread her fingers and looked down at them before she met Eve’s eyes. ‘I guess I need to start with this: my husband and I are divorcing and I’m moving here to live with Mum.’

  So that explained why Callie’s husband wasn’t here to support her. It also explained the abrupt end to their conversation when the husband topic came up. Poor Callie.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  Callie looked up and Eve saw a remarkable expression of peace on her face. ‘Things work out in strange ways.’

  Eve’s favourite sentiment. She could have hugged her. She felt the beginnings of a tiny thread of hope: maybe she and this new sister did share some basic philosophies that she and Sienna didn’t, a kindred spiritedness she’d felt from the first moment and hoped she hadn’t been imagining. But Callie had already moved on, so maybe there was a bit of Sienna in Callie as well. Eve’s mental attempt to play families made her smile inside.

  Callie said, ‘Blanche McKay wants to set up and fund a permanent medical centre here. She’s motivated by three family tragedies. One of the conditions is that we have an antenatal-care component and I’m not happy to take on that responsibility.’

  Callie straightened, as if now that it was out, it was one hurdle she didn’t need to worry about. ‘So are you interested in hearing this?’

  ‘Sure.’

  She drew breath. ‘I wondered if you knew of any midwives capable and interested in that side of it,’ she paused and then said in a rush, ‘or even if you’d consider it yourself? There might be a lot of on-call first aid, though.’

  Eve live and work in Red Sand? Now that was out of left field. Eve saw Callie glance at her mother, who nodded encouragingly. So Sylvia knew Callie had been going to ask.

  Callie went on hurriedly, as if still not sure whether she thought it a good idea or not. ‘Blanche’s niece lost a baby last month, and her daughter suicided a year ago after she also lost her first baby. Both were premature. Blanche thinks that if we’d had more ante­natal care, as well as what was provided by the flying obstetrician, it might have prevented both tragedies. Or at least it will encourage others to seek help earlier in future. She’s come to the idea that those babies and mothers might have had different outcomes.’

  Callie shrugged, and Eve got the impression Callie wasn’t anywhere near convinced. ‘She’s willing to put a lot of money into staffing and supplying the medical centre. I’m keen to be a general GP. Maybe if there had been one of those then my dad would still be here.’

  Callie gripped her teacup but didn’t lift it to her mouth. ‘I’m not sure she’s right about the need or the benefits antenatally, but I think I’d like to see how viable it would be if we included all the stations around the area and offered multi-purpose services.’

  ‘Wow, ambitious project,’ Eve said. ‘So on the women’s side of things, just antenatal care?’ She couldn’t help imagining tiny, bush-born babies. ‘No future for planned births? Not even low-risk?’

  ‘No.’ Callie’s response was accompanied by a sharp shake of the head. She obviously felt strongly about that, and Eve wondered if there was a history there. ‘We don’t have the coverage of support. I can’t be anyone’s backup for births.’

  Eve didn’t agree. Callie could back up if she had to. She was a GP, wasn’t she? They were only talking about unexpected babies and keeping them well until help arrived. Newborns didn’t need a lot.

  ‘So you don’t think the women will decide that because there’s a doctor here they won’t have to go away to give birth as early as they usually would?’

  Callie rolled her eyes. ‘I sincerely hope not. At the moment, every pregnant woman around here leaves at thirty-six weeks and waits for labour in Longreach or Charleville. The higher-risk women go to Brisbane or Toowoomba. All accommodation’s paid for by the state if you leave on time, but you pay for your own if you’re late getting away.’

  Eve smiled at the autocracy in government health. One way of ensuring compliance. ‘Nasty.’

  ‘It seems to work. If women have relatives they can stay with they sometimes leave it a little later. But nobody would be birthing here!’

  Eve shrugged. Where she worked in Brisbane, some patients’ lives were so chaotic they hadn’t had antenatal care or organised a place to birth; they’d just walked in when they went into labour, or carried in a newborn after an unexpected birth. It happened. It still seemed strange that Callie was so terrified of unplanned birth. She wondered if Sylvia had gone away for her confinement.

  ‘Okay. But you’re a doctor. Did you get any experience with obstetrics in your training?’

  A reluctant nod from Callie. ‘I did my Obstetric Diploma before I married, to round out my GP training, and a bit of anaesthetics, and I’ve been doing a lot of well-women care.’ She shook her head. ‘But I’m no obstetrician and the two babies I actually delivered myself were years ago, as a resident.’

  She fixed her gaze on Eve’s face. ‘I’m not planning to deliver babies.’ Then she shrugged. ‘I just wondered if you knew of anyone who’d even consider coming out here while I get settled? For at least six months? I think we’d need to have a few pregnancies to see whether there was a real need. But while we set it up we could look for a replacement if the midwife who came needed to go back earlier.’

  Eve wasn’t thinking of looking for someone else. She was thinking Eve Wilson: Outback Adventurer. A change. A challenge. A break from the sadness at work that she couldn’t seem to shake.

  She shrugged. ‘I am thinking about it. But to be honest I was thinking of me rather than someone else.’ Eve looked at Sylvia and then back at Callie. ‘It would be a chance to get to know you both, spend a bit of time learning about a father I never knew, and I’d like to do that. If it’s okay with Sylvia?’

  ‘We’d love to get to know you more, darling.’ Reassuringly, Sylvia looked more pleased than dismayed. It was a pretty wild thing to contemplate and Eve wondered what Sienna would say about it. But then, she hadn’t seen her sister since their mum’s funeral twelve months ago, so it wasn’t like she’d notice if Eve left Brisbane.

  What the heck was she considering? Eve glanced out the window at the red barren landscape stretching away to the horizon, then back at this woman she felt a rapport with already. She liked very much what she saw.

  Callie was smiling. ‘You might be sorry you said that.’

  ‘Nah.’ Eve grinned at her half-sister. ‘But I guess you’d have a lot of work to do before you need me sitting around, waiting to talk babies, so I have a little time to decide definitely.’

  If she was really thinking about this there’d be a month or two of organising of her own life to be done first. Arrange leave from work. Sublet her flat. The concept began to take shape. ‘Must admit, though, I like the idea very much.’

  There was flattering enthusiasm on Callie’s face. Eve hadn’t realised she was so needy for someone to really want her company.

  ‘Okay,’ Callie said, ‘let’s leave it there. At least I have a lovely option to discuss with Blanche, if she doesn’t go cold on the idea – which, I might add, is unlikely.’ Callie gestured with her hand at the window. ‘When you’ve finished your breakfast, we might take a drive around, show the place off before it gets too hot, although it’s March and cooling down a little. At least then you won’t be able to say I didn’t warn you how it was going to be if you decide to come.’

  She glanced at the clock
and then at her mother. ‘Would you like to come, Mum?’

  Sylvia seemed to wilt at the thought. ‘No. You girls go. I’ll stay. Have a rest.’ She smiled at Eve. ‘But I want to hear what you think when you come back.’

  After they’d washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, Sylvia sat on the verandah with her feet up, and Callie and Eve started with a walk down the main street. It was hot. Not unbearably so, but there was a dry breeze different to in Brisbane, like a pizza oven door was open.

  Callie named the buildings Eve had seen when she first arrived, some of them empty, and they meandered along the footpath from one end to the other. More than half of the shopfronts were closed, and Eve began to wonder if there were enough people in the vicinity to need a medical centre, let alone enough pregnant women to need a midwife.

  They came to a hairdresser’s and Eve grinned at the photo of riding boots and a pair of shears. ‘Scissors Outback.’ She peered in the window of the shop. ‘So you have a hairdresser?’

  ‘And apparently she has a new girl who does nails.’

  ‘Woo hoo. Wish I didn’t bite them.’ She glanced down at her hands. ‘But Sienna would be pleased.’

  ‘I’m sorry she couldn’t make it for the funeral.’

  ‘Mmm.’ They hadn’t really talked about Sienna. Might have been for the best that she couldn’t make it, Eve thought. Sienna probably would have just spent the time complaining about the lack of amenities. About how dumb Eve had been to come and how it was disloyal to Mum to like Duncan’s other family. ‘I’ll let her know how it went and that you and Sylvia were really mean to me.’

  Callie glanced hurriedly across at Eve, saw the grin and laughed with relief.

  ‘Seriously. You guys have made me so welcome. I didn’t expect it.’

  ‘No hardship.’

  They passed a newsagent’s and a small bakery with the enticing aroma of fresh bread rolls drifting from the door. A lean-jeaned cowboy waved a pie in Callie’s direction.

  Eve admired his loose-limbed stroll and easy, understated fitness, so different to the gym-built guys in the city, and felt her cheeks warm when he winked at her. Then he climbed, mouth ecstatically full of pie, into a disreputable truck with an equally disreputable dog in the back and drove away.